Suicide of Brutus

End of the war against the tyrant
My legions have been defeated.

Last blades left
Are having their cold-blooded affairs with the enemies',
As the last troops defend our precious republic.
I understand,
Although it is sad,
That there is no more i can do
To gratify my ancestors' souls.
Now I will not hesitate
To draw my silver sword
And kill myself by my own hands
In a noble way

Like the sun paints the skies scarlet
As it goes down...

Brutus.